


I Want You in the Morning Before You Go on Performing

by Basic_instinct40



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternative Universe were people are allowed to be happy, Attempt at Humor, Bisexual Jonathan Byers, Bisexual Steve Harrington, Blow Jobs, But only if you squint, Cop Steve Harrington, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hair-pulling, Indiana Thrupple on those Indiana nights, Light Power Dynamics, M/M, Multi, Nancy is once again over this shit, Rough play, Sex Games, Smut, Stone Top, This is not in line with canon at all, non-con thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-22 22:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23834401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basic_instinct40/pseuds/Basic_instinct40
Summary: Heat pools in the pit of his belly and burns the soles of his feet from the contemptuous glare she gives him. He doesn’t know why she has this effect on him, or how he could make himself not crave it anymore. The three of them had never spoken about it in depth, and Steve doesn’t think this moment, on his knees for Nancy Wheeler, was the time to dive into it. Now, was not the time to dissect the games they played or how his twisted little brain was wired. Right now was the time to shut up and hopefully get off.**Edits done as of 6/28/20**
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington, Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Kudos: 31





	I Want You in the Morning Before You Go on Performing

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, posting another Stranger Things fic. Who would have thought. I have not watched the last season, so please don't expect any content past season 2. This is a fic for pure pleasure and me having a good time. I hope it gives someone else a good time. I listen to lots of Yoke Lore while writing this, especially the songs Beige, Goodpain, and Chin Up. The last song is a great Steve Harrington tune to listen to while thinking about him.

Careful isn’t a word that most would use to describe Steve, but then that’s how he’s always wanted it. He wouldn’t be the careful type if people thought about him any other way. Steve’s spent years being careful with himself and what mattered to him. If growing up with his parents taught him one thing, other than how to make a damn good vodka martini by the age of 12, it was to take everything that mattered to you and shove it down where no one could expose it. Don't wear your heart on your sleeve, don't show that you give a fuck, not even about yourself.

Steve Harrington has perfected the art of not giving a fuck.

That was before monsters came to Indiana, before Nancy Wheeler tore his heart out and showed it to him. It was definitely before that little weasel Jonathan Byers worked his way into Steve’s life, and wet dreams. Steve quickly discovered that if he wanted a shot in the dark of being someone other than the miserable party king of his graduating class, he would have to display a little care. Still, hair trigger habits of survival were hard to break.

Steve is a twenty-year-old man with a forty-five hour a week job on the Hawkins Police Force, renting a two-bedroom home in his name. He shares said home with his part-time live-in girlfriend and boyfriend, who Steve somehow conned into being with him for nearly six months. People in their community now see Steve as a responsible, trustworthy adult who can keep an eye on their kids or be called on when things go south. Steve is a grown up, so it should make no sense that he was currently hiding under his blankets on his day off at 4pm, with a flashlight, and his brand new copy of Batman and The Outsiders. He reasons that as a grown man he could do what he wanted with his things.

Not that he was ashamed of reading the comic. Steve simply didn’t want anyone to know and that was a perfectly informed decision of an adult. He’d been reading for almost thirty minutes, working his way through a pack of twizzlers, when he hears his front door slam.

“Shit,” he whispers to the comic. Nancy and Jonathan’s voices carry from the living room and to their shared room thanks to the thin walls that made up his home. He clicks off the flashlight and shoves the comic under a pillow, pulling the blanket off his head just as Nancy opens the bedroom door, Jonathan trailing behind her.

“Hey,” Steve says, working to control his breathing and reminding himself that he was one of Indiana’s finest. Nearly getting caught reading a child’s comic book by your significant others shouldn’t inspire heavy breathing from a man that carried a gun around for a living. Then again, the weight of Nancy Wheeler’s gaze as she took in the state of him could make the most hardened criminal fold. Steve gave her a thin smile, flicking his eyes to Jonathan who grins down at him. He looks like he was working on not laughing out loud.

Steve’s eyes roam over the younger man’s body. Jonathan looks good, decked out in skin tight black jeans and a red plaid shirt. Steve is about to tell him so when the bed dips with the weight of Nancy’s body.

“Were you jerking off?” Nancy asks. She scoots across the queen-sized mattress and sits beside him until her back is against the wall. Steve drags his eyes away from his boyfriend and blinks them at Nancy. She was smiling at him in that way she did that was mostly done with her eyes.

“Ummm no?” Steve answers, not sure why he sounded uncertain.

Jonathan releases a laugh. “You sure about?” He teases Steve. He points at himself and then Nancy. “We aren’t going to be pissed if you like--need to get off without us.”

The absurdity of the situation brings Steve to his senses and he frowns at them. “I was not sitting at home by myself, jerking off,” he tells them. He hopes he sounds as offended as he feels. Steve wonders if it should offend him.

Nancy reaches over to smooth out his hair, her touch feather light and yeah, Steve could guess what he looks like to them. Chest bare, skin flushed, hair askew, and body slightly sweaty from being under the blanket. Steve would let them believe what they wanted. He leans into Nancy’s touch, knowing that he made a pleasant sight to Jonathan, and closes his eyes. He was happy to have them home, even if they had interrupted his time with the Caped Crusader. More often than not, the three of them couldn’t all be together every night. The daily juggle of families, schools, and jobs led to Steve eating a solitary microwave dinner at the precinct and then heading home to an empty bed too often. Tonight would not be one of those nights.

Nancy continues petting his hair, but her touch becomes firmer, until her tiny fist grabs up the hair at the base of his neck. Steve opens his eyes, delighted to see the maniacal grin playing out behind Nancy’s eyes. It’s Jonathan’s voice though, that sends a thrill straight down Steve’s already interested cock.

“That’s real cute you two,” Jonathan says, his tone mocking. “But if you haven’t been jerking off, you want one of us to get a hand on your dick?”

Steve fights at Nancy’s grip to smirk at Jonathan who was leaning up against the desk, his arms folded, like he had all the time in the world and he might spend some of it on Steve’s dick. Jonathan didn’t seem like he cared if Steve took him up on his offer or not, and he toys with the idea of saying no. Of pushing him for a reaction for old times sake. Steve day dreams of what Jonathan would do. Would he take Steve anyway? Maybe fuck Nancy in front of him on their bed? Steve tucks those thoughts away, chalking it up to eating candy for lunch.  
“Yes, please,” he answers. Nancy giggles and scratches his scalp.

“So polite,” She teases.

“Yes, ma’am,” Steve says in his best Indiana bumpkin police officer voice and then licks at her face. She squeals, releasing his hair and swats at his chest. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve sees Jonathan unzipping his pants, and he thinks of his brand new comic lying hidden under the pillow. Attempting to sound nonchalant, Steve sits up from the wall and suggests they move the party to the living room.

Scrambling to get up, Steve runs out the bedroom discarding his boxers on the floor, and yelling behind him. “Last one in here is a demogorgon.”

He hears Jonathan’s weary sigh behind him. “Steve, we’ve talked about saying that.”

Steve plops his ass down in the middle of the dark green velour couch and pulls the other boy towards him. “Okay, fine sorry,” he says. “I’ll make it up to you.” Then yelling over him in the bedroom’s direction he calls, “Last one out has to sleep in the wet spot tonight.”

Jonathan chuckles. “Yeah, she’s not going to do that.”

Steve always slept in the wet spot. “I know.” He smirks at Jonathan, raising his brows. “Hey, why are you still wearing clothes, that should be illegal for you.” Jonathan blushes as Steve starts unbuttoning his shirt. “And I should know what’s legal or not around these parts, on account of me being the law and all.” Jonathan groans at the terrible joke and helps Steve finish undressing him.

Smoothing a palm over the younger man’s naked chest, he kisses down his neck, enjoying the way Jonathan’s breath stutters when Steve runs a thumb across one of his nipples. “See,” he whispers in Jonathan’s ear. “Isn’t it much better when you cooperate with law enforcement?”

Before he could receive a response Nancy walks in wearing only her underwear, a matching white pair covered with cherries, and holding open the packet of twizzlers. She lightly waves them in the men’s direction, walking towards them. Pointing at Steve with her empty hand, she stands over the two naked men. Steve notices that her nipples were hard and poking through her bra.  
Nancy shakes the package in his face. “What did we say about eating candy in bed?”

Steve feels the press of Jonathan’s fingers around one of his hip bones and he palms at Jonathan’s hard dick without taking his eyes off Nancy. “You said we would get ants,” he answers in a deadpanned voice.

Nancy pulls one long strip of licorice out of the wrapper and covers the rest, setting it down on the coffee table. “Do you want ants?” Nancy asks in her school teacher's voice. Steve wasn’t sure if this was one of those questions he was supposed to answer, but then Jonathan fingers press harder into his side prompting him to respond.

“Ummm, no, Nance,” he says. “I don’t want ants.” She takes a bite of the candy and Steve thinks he never seen anyone looking sexier eating a twizzler while disappointed. But then, this was Nancy and she could look sexy and disappointed while doing anything. Steve wishes he was that twizzler in her mouth.

“Sorry?” he offers. Nancy pulls the licorice out of her mouth, half finished, and examines him.

“Mmmhhhmm,” she says, considering Steve. She turns to Jonathan, gesturing to him with the candy, which he takes with an open mouth. Steve was extremely envious of the bright red confection. Nancy sits down beside Jonathan, kissing his shoulder blade, and peeks over it at Steve ominously with her big blue eyes.

“Okay, Steve. Down on your knees,” She orders. He silently moves down to the floor, figuring it was best to ask questions once Nancy had him where she wanted him. “Get in front of Jonathan--move a little to the left.” Steve adjusts to her specifications. “Yeah, right there. Good,” she praises.

They both peer down at him with matching Mona Lisa smiles. Jonathan’s back leaning against Nancy’s chest, partly covering her. Steve licks his bottom lip, his cock heavy with want and his chest aching with love. Neither one of them speaks or makes a move to touch him. Instead the moment stretches, stretching him out, until he feels he can’t take it. Nancy raises an index finger to brush along Jonathan’s jawline, turning his mouth to hers. It was the stuff of Steve’s dreams, and his nightmares. Watching them now was worse, because he knew how they both tasted separately, and together. He is going to rip someone’s hair out, including his own, if he doesn’t get touched soon.

Steve must have let out a whine, because Jonathan turns to glance down at him with surprise. ‘Yeah, asshole,’ Steve thinks at him. ‘Me and my dick are still here.’ Instead of saying that, he pleads without speaking at his boyfriend, hoping for a friendly pat on his ass.

“Sorry, baby,” Jonathan says to him, sounding more amused than apologetic. He reaches out and ruffles Steve’s hair. Nancy laughs.“Sweet, Steve,” she fake pouts. 

Steve smiles up at them, and places both of his hands on one of their thighs. “I thought Sweet Steve was going to cum?”

Nancy shakes her head. “Nope,” she tells him, popping the ‘P’ with satisfaction. “That was before you chanced our bed to ants.” She sneers at him and Jonathan wags a disapproving finger in his face.

“Oh, honey. It’s okay,” Jonathan says at Steve’s fallen face. “You can make it up to us. Right, Nance?” He caresses the side of Steve’s cheek with a warm rough palm, not looking at him anymore. Steve glances up at Nancy, still rubbing her thigh with his hand, hoping to convey how sorry he was about the bed situation.

Heat pools in the pit of his belly and burns the soles of his feet from the contemptuous glare she gives him. He doesn’t know why she has this effect on him, or how he could make himself not crave it anymore. The three of them had never spoken about it in depth, and Steve doesn’t think this moment, on his knees for Nancy Wheeler, was the time to dive into it. Now, was not the time to dissect the games they played or how his twisted little brain was wired. Right now was the time to shut up and hopefully get off.

“I don’t know,” Nancy says, sounding like she knew, exactly. “We have to change the sheets because of him.”

Steve continues to rub his precious girlfriend’s thigh, deciding not to mention that they were his sheets to change. He whimpers a little, knowing she would want to hear him. “I’ll change them,” he pleads at her. Inside his mind, Steve was rolling his eyes at his pathetic display. ‘The lengths I’m willing to go to for this woman,’ he thinks.

Jonathan grips his hair, causing Steve to let out a little moan. “See, Nance. He’ll change them and I’ll even help,” he punctuations his sentence with a jerk of Steve’s head towards her. Fuck, they would put him in an early grave. He’d rather fight in the upside down again than receive torture from these two.

“All right then, but it’s your problem,” Nancy says to Jonathan. “No skin off my back.” The way she says it made it seem like there might be some skin off Steve’s back by the time this was all over.

Jonathan flashes Steve a rare wide grin. Teeth and all. He bends down to kiss at Steve with more tongue than lips, his mouth candied corn-syrup-y. He pulls away with a tug of Steve’s hair. “You hear that, baby?” he asks, but Steve doesn’t get a chance to respond, before they cut his air off. He swallows Jonathan down in one well-practiced motion and the younger man is the only thing he can breathe. Steve figures this is an okay enough reason to put off his comic for one more day.  
++++++++++++++++++++  
Indiana weather is fickle at the best of times, but in April you were playing an hour by hour game with the layers of your clothes and when to shed them while also making small talk with the rest of the locals over “this crazy weather we are having these days.” Steve knows like the rest of the locals that they were having the same “crazy weather” Hawkins has every April, but he keeps up the small talk, because it was the polite thing to do. He figures he’d lived through enough excitement over the past couple of years to stand some polite weather talk from the locals.

The small talk is how he found out tonight, his first night off in two weeks, that there would be a thunderstorm. Steve didn’t mind the late spring storms, finding comfort in the grey rain clouds, and the damp heat that cloaked the entire town. He grabs a pizza from Pizza Hut and swings by the convenience store on the edge of town that had been selling him beer since he was sixteen. The owners hadn’t looked impressed the day Steve walked in with his new police cadet uniform on, giving him an impassioned glare that could only be described as, “Fuck around and find out.” Steve didn’t want to find out.

He drives home tired, but sated after a long, grim week of work. Steve may be a lowly cop in bumfuck Hawkins, Indiana, but he is still a cop, one who tries to be good and that was hard in any town. Steve is looking forward to putting his feet up, zoning out, and seeing who was home for the night. A solo night for him didn’t seem so awful from where he is at, considering the amount of sleep he could catch up on. The driveway is empty when he pulls into his street, but as Steve studies the sky he gatherers he could whine on the phone to Nancy or Jonathan or both to make it over before the hail comes down.

He fumbles to hold on to his dinner without dropping it and unlocks the front door when it swings open in front of him. Jonathan leans in the doorway dressed in a plain black t-shirt and faded blue jeans. The last beer from the fridge is half-way to his mouth and his feet are bare. Steve is pretty sure that if he wasn’t holding an entire pizza and a six pack of Coors, he would have dropped to his knees to suck off Byers right on the front steps. Luckily, Jonathan isn’t the first cute face to try and out flirt Steve Harrington. He also knows the younger man’s weakness. Gathering his wits about him, Steve tilts his head to look up through his lashes, biting his lower lip.

Jonathan drains the rest of the bottle, impervious to his boyfriend’s charm. “You’re full of shit, Harrington.” He steps aside to let Steve pass. “Get in here before the sky falls down on you.”  
“Yes, dear,” Steve says, avoiding the jab the other man threw at him.

“Your Mom dropped you off ?” he asks. He hands off the meager groceries and shucks off his jacket, toeing his shoes off to leave by the front door.

“Yeah, I told her you were lonely,” Jonathan says. “She feels sorry for your sad ass.” Steve throws his hat at him, catching it when Jonathan throws it back. He walks around the couch to tackle the younger boy, grabbing him in a half hearted headlock.

“You’re so funny, you should sell that fancy camera of yours and take this side show act on the road.” He rubs his knuckles back and forth against Jonathan’s scalp, who grapples for purchase, pressing his reedy fingers into Steve’s underarm.

“Is this the police brutality they teach you in that fascist police academy?” Jonathan’s voice comes out muffled, but clear enough.

Steve pulls his boyfriend up to face him in mock surprise, holding him tightly by the shoulders. “Fascist, fascist,” he yells in false anger, shaking the other man back and forth. Jonathan starts to giggle as Steve shakes him, screaming, “Fascist!” each time his head snaps back. He walks Jonathan back towards the couch and sits him down. Steve wants to keep him laughing, knowing that neither one of them has had enough laughter in their short life.

He bites at Jonathan’s face in tiny nips, laying a kiss after each bite. “I’ll have you know that my fascist state employed ass keeps your cute tight underage drinking ass in beer,” Steve tells him, laying a kiss on both cheeks.

Jonathan peers back at him with narrow eyes. “You aren’t old enough to drink either, you know?”

Steve surrenders him and waves his hands towards the beer on the table, game show style. “Yet here it is.” He winks at Jonathan. “Your man provides.”

“Shut your trap and go wash your hands,” he snaps at Steve without heat. “I’m starving.”  
++++++++++  
The storm is sluggish to get going. Dropping plump rain drops from the sky and against the windows in a lazy roundabout way as they made their way through the pizza and the beer. Steve nearly thought the locals got the weather report wrong, until he says his goodbyes to Nancy over the phone. Overhead, the sky makes its true intentions known, sending a deafening crack of thunder over his roof.

Jonathan’s dark brown eyes go wide as the house lights flicker, but don’t go out. Steve’s heartbeat pounds irregularly for a moment before he decides he isn't going to freak out or at the very least he wasn’t going to freak out and cause Jonathan to lose his cool. The storm is now in full swing all around them and the only thing Steve can do was hold on to one of the loves’ of his life and hope not to get swept away into the night.

And aim for an orgasm or two.

Putting on a sauve front, he saunters over to the couch where Jonathan is sitting, his feet tucked in underneath him. “Hey, cutie,” Steve says. “Nancy’s parents don’t want her out in a storm, so it’s just you and me for the long haul.” He fakes a yawn and throws one arm over the younger man who continues flipping through the channels.  
Jonathan snorts, not taking his eyes away from the television. “Yeah, I know. I talked to her first.”

Steve refuses to be deterred by facts, and presses in closer. “Well, don’t you worry about the big bad storm. Steve’s here.” He brushes his fingers against Jonathan’s crotch and pitches his voice lower. “For whatever your heart desires.”

Jonathan stops messing with the remote to grimace at him. “Thanks, you weirdo.” He shifts back towards the television where Steve’s next failed seduction attempt is clipped off by the familiar campy tone of Batman theme song.” The “Nananananana, BaaatMaaan,” blaring out from his childhood.

Steve shifts slightly away from Jonathan, his favorite childhood cartoon playing out in front of him. He schools his face into a guise of disinterest, a stand-by mask that feels too easy and comfortable after all this time. Sliding his eyes to Jonathan, Steve watches him out of the corner of his mask. He doesn’t seem like he’s faking interest.

“I didn’t know you liked this show,” Steve says, wondering if he sounds normal. “Or, um Batman.”

Jonathan shrugs one shoulder, watching the Joker hatch a plan to escape prison. It’s an earlier episode that Steve has seen numerous times, in fact he’s seen every episode of Batman more than once. When he was little Steve would tip toe out of bed early on Saturday mornings, careful to keep the volume low on the gigantic television set in his parents' living room. One or both of his parents would be nursing a hangover from the previous night’s antics and sometimes he wouldn’t be able to hear the show unless he pressed his ear against the screen. They’re bittersweet memories that Steve tells himself not to dwell on, he was no longer that lonely child who dreamed of growing up to be Batman. He is a grown man who knew that you couldn’t hide behind a mask forever, not if you ever wanted to be seen as something more.

A commercial break comes on between episodes and Jonathan turns to him, bugging his eyes out a little when he sees that he is still being stared at. “You see something you like?” He taunts at Steve, a light but promising smile on his lips.

Steve reaches over to pluck the remote out the other man’s hand, turning the volume as low as it could go. The only sound was the drum-roll of thunder that makes Jonathan jolt in surprise, a weak nervous laugh escapes his chest and Steve decides, again, not to tease him about it. He cups Jonathan’s chin in one palm, angling his face back and forth so his sharp cheekbones catch the television’s artificial light.

“You know,” he tells him, fluttering his hands down to Jonathan’s slender neck. “In a certain light you kind of resemble Adam West.”  
Jonathan smacks his hand aside with a glare, ignoring the see-saw trill of Steve’s glee. He climbs on top of Steve, his jeans discarded hours after demolishing dinner. “You use that line on all the guys?” he asks, nipping at Steve’s neck.

Steve hums happily, sighing in the tight embrace of his boyfriend’s arms. He rubs at Jonathan’s narrow shoulder blades with one hand and grabs a handful of his ass with the other. “Nah,” he says. “Just the easy ones.” Back on screen Batman and Robin were fighting off the Joker’s goons.

Jonathan stops licking his collarbone to press his mouth against the swirl of Steve’s ear canal. He doesn’t bother to whisper when he asks, “You wanna see easy?” He leans down to Steve’s left bicep and takes a mouthful of t-shirt covered flesh, biting down as hard as he can manage. As hard as Steve can take it.

Steve lifts his boxer clad hips up against Jonathan’s, his dick a pressure valve that he needs to release before it’s too late. That he needs Jonathan to release. Steve thinks he says the last part out loud because the other man frees his arm, pulling up his sleeve to deliver lazy wet swipes of his tongue across the bite mark. Jonathan rises to scratch and pull at Steve’s hair, pretending to make small pigtails in each one of his fists. Each touch sends a flutter through Steve’s belly and adds to the steady throb in his groin.

Jonathan gives him several messy kisses, and Steve admires him from behind half closed lids, trapped in a dream state until the benevolent being from above tells him to awaken. “You wanna go get lucky in the bedroom?” he asks Steve in between kisses.

Steve opens one eye properly, “Oh, it gets better than this?”

Jonathan gets off him with one last dirty roll of hips. “Well, it could if you hurry. Otherwise I’ll just get off to all your hidden comics.” He wiggles his eyebrows at Steve’s stunned face and skips off to their bedroom.

Steve closes his mouth and tries for a calm expression, squeezing the base of his dick to regain control. Realizing he is all alone, and his boyfriend is likely naked on clean sheets, Steve jumps up from the couch. Pulling off his shirt he yells down the hall, “Hey, take your cummy hands off my stuff. Some of those might be worth millions one day.”

**Author's Note:**

> I played with the idea of Nancy being a Stone top here. The boys are watching the 1960s Batman, the episode “The Joker Is Wild”/“Batman Is Riled” season one, episodes five and six. The comic Steve is reading is real and came out in the summer of 1985. The Outsiders were pretty cool. Let me know what you think or have questions.


End file.
